


Beryl Blue

by flavouredice



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Red & Green & Blue & Yellow | Pokemon Red Green Blue Yellow Versions
Genre: M/M, Purple Prose, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-28
Updated: 2009-08-28
Packaged: 2017-11-09 00:15:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/449115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flavouredice/pseuds/flavouredice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's been standing at the door for a while now, a curious grin playing his features. The door's cracked open behind him and a slight sweep of air whispers in, ruffling the apartment in downy kisses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beryl Blue

He's been standing at the door for a while now, a curious grin playing his features. The door's cracked open behind him and a slight sweep of air whispers in, ruffling the apartment in downy kisses.

It's a plain little place with soft pearl walls and angel blue rugs and delicate mahogany pieces. Quiet little frames of watercolour paints are hanging; colours of soft creams and delicate azures dotting canvasses. Far off in the corner from the door ticks a daintily tenebrous clock with fading Roman numeral inscriptions and a small camel coffee table waves at back from across the room, crystal bowl of mint cream petals sitting atop; tickling the nose with hints and notes of the cool colour filling the room. There's only one source of intended light in the room, and that's from the lamp resting on the black-walnut scando (with the sagebrush shade in the centre). To the left of that is a plush two-person couch, covered and concealed in dark cobalt, and a television faintly glows from maybe one, two metres away. Despite there being two windows in the room, Green still can't tell exactly who's sitting in the davenport (even though he already has an idea who it is as he looks at the locks of black) and a silken frost illuminates and pecks certain areas bright on the other's figure.

Green slips his shoes off, felt covered things dripping from the snow outside, and finally shuts the door, locking the world away -if only for a quivering moment. He makes his way to the couch, stopping only when a mess of inky locks are in front of his eyes.

The TV's playing something, but Green doesn't know what as he gazes into the pair of cochineal eyes that have turned to him. The other, he's in a two-sizes-too-big beryl sweater and a pair of half-hidden ebony boxers. His skin is a luscious pale in colour and his lips are the shade of his dusted cheeks. Subtle clouds float and fly from the pinked mouth and tickle the long wisps and lashes that frame his scarlet-hued orbs, fine eyebrows arched and crunching together in slight confusion as he looks at Green from under his sable hair (vague hinting of midnight flicking and flowering from the roots up).

Green can tell that the younger is slightly chilled, knees drawn to his chest and hands held close to his stomach, and a thought flies by; of how this picture would look so much better with smatters and blushes of pink, a shoulder teasingly peaking out from the fallen collar of that beryl sweater…

It isn't long after this idea that Green takes it upon himself to steal the other's lips and suddenly the boreal winter has fuzzed and faded on the edges and the one with jaded eyes would swear it were spring.

And as he makes himself comfortable on the darkest-of-blues-couch he'll urge his hands to slip off that sweater…

And Red will shoot him a sloppy smile from under the beryl blue.


End file.
